Through the Fog

Tag: belonging

  • Somewhere Between

    I always felt like I was

    in between—

    something like home

    and somewhere far away.

    Never fully arriving.

    Never fully leaving.

    Just existing

    in the space

    between who I was

    and who I wanted to become.

    I knew the roads.

    I recognized the faces.

    But even in familiar places,

    I carried the feeling

    that I was only passing through.

    Like everyone else

    had roots,

    and I only had directions.

    I spent years

    thinking I was searching

    for a place.

    A city.

    A person.

    A life

    that would finally make me feel

    like I belonged.

    But no matter

    how far I ran,

    I took the distance

    with me.

    Because it wasn’t miles

    I was trying to cross.

    It was something inside me.

    A quiet emptiness

    that kept whispering,

    Almost.

    Not here.

    Keep going.

    So I did.

    Until one day

    I realized

    maybe I wasn’t meant

    to find home.

    Maybe I was meant

    to build it.

    Piece by piece.

    From forgiveness.

    From healing.

    From learning

    to stop running

    from the person

    I kept leaving behind.

    I always felt like I was

    between something like home

    and somewhere far away.

    Maybe that’s what becoming feels like.

    Not lost.

    Just traveling

    the long way

    back to yourself.

  • Belonging, Measured in Time

    The hardest thing of all is to belong—

    not to a place,

    not to a person,

    but to the moment you’re standing in

    without shrinking yourself to fit it.

    Belonging asks for courage.

    It asks you to stay visible

    when hiding would be easier,

    to plant your feet

    when every instinct tells you

    to keep moving.

    It’s learning how to be here

    without apology.

    The oddest thing of all is time.

    How it slips through your fingers

    even when you’re paying attention.

    How it rushes past the moments

    you’d beg to keep

    and lingers in the ones

    you’re trying to survive.

    Time teaches you too late

    what mattered most.

    It turns now into then

    without asking permission,

    and suddenly you’re holding memories

    instead of people,

    lessons instead of chances.

    Maybe belonging and time

    are tied together—

    maybe we struggle to belong

    because we’re always afraid

    of when.

    When it will change.

    When it will end.

    When it will hurt.

    So we hover at the edges,

    half-in, half-out,

    thinking distance will protect us.

    But all it does

    is make the passing louder.

    The hardest thing of all

    is choosing to belong anyway.

    The oddest thing of all

    is realizing time never waited

    for us to decide.